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In making this march the Sixty-first skirmished over the mountains at Snecker's Gap, driving back a body of cavalry that was observing, if not holding this position. From the ridge of the mountain we had a view that in my judgment could not be equaled in Europe. While the army was at Warrenton the order came removing McClellan and appointing Burnside.
I thought one had old Snecker's burly shoulders and another Bo Snecker's stripling shape. I did recognize Blome in spite of his mask, because his fair skin and hair, his garb and air of distinction made plain his identity. They all wore coats, hiding any weapons. The big man with burly shoulders shook hands with Sampson and the others stood back. The atmosphere of that room had changed.
It was to go boldy into the saloon, ask for the rustler, first pretend I had a reply from Morton and then, when I had Snecker's ear, whisper a message supposedly from Sampson. If Snecker was too keen to be decoyed I could at least surprise him off his guard and kill him, then run for my horse. The plan seemed clever to me.
Snecker a second later flashed into movement. "Steele blurred in my sight. His action couldn't be followed. But I saw his gun, waving up, flame red once twice and the reports almost boomed together. "Blome bent forward, arm down, doubled up, and fell over the table and slid to the floor. "But Snecker's gun cracked with Steele's last shot. I heard the bullet strike Steele.
I got an impression that his strength and vitality were like his spirit unconquerable! "So you knew it was Bill Snecker's son?" I asked when I had told him about finding the rustler. "Sure. Jim Hoden pointed him out to me yesterday. Both the Sneckers are in town. From now on we're going to be busy, Russ." "It can't come too soon for me," I replied. "Shall I chuck my job?
The rustler fell back, and one of his legs pitched high as he slid off the lunging steed. His other foot caught in the stirrup. This fact terribly frightened the horse. He bolted, dragging the rustler for a dozen jumps. Then Snecker's foot slipped loose. He lay limp and still and shapeless in the road. I did not need to go back to look him over.
The violent start of this violent outlaw was a rippling jerk of passion. "What'n hell!" he ejaculated. "Bill, you're easy." "Who're you?" he uttered hoarsely. I watched Snecker with hawk-like keenness. "United States deputy marshal. Bill, you're under arrest!" He roared a mad curse as his hand clapped down to his gun. Then I fired through my sombrero. Snecker's big horse plunged.
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